Last night a storm cut a swath through my neighborhood, riping the tops off trees. This morning we took a walk to see the remnants of the storm. These images reflect what we saw. The destruction stunned me. I’ve never seen so many trees down. This storm, whatever it was, clearly had a path. In Prospect Park near Grand Army Plaza trees were uprooted, branches down. The crucifix on the church nearby lost its cross. It toppled on a parked car. And an angel in a church yard lost her wings. Right now I’m listening to the sound of buzz saws. A tree, not ours but our neighbors, is being removed. Two doors down and at least sixty feet high. It fell across six backyards. The tree was planted by Rita’s father eighty years ago when he moved into the house. It is the only house Rita has ever known. I loved that tree. Neighbors tell how the sky turned black, then green. The wind came from every direction. A little girl next door told her mother she thought she would die. Our pin oak, which was on of the reasons why we bought this house, escaped without a scratch.
What a crazy, scary storm. When we got home last night and walked from the subway to our apartment, our mouths fell open. We couldn’t believe all the damage. I love trees and could hear their silent screams. Steve is a tornado survivor from way back, having grown up in Kansas. I’ve only experienced one before while in Pittsburgh. Even if it wasn’t a full-fledged tornado, the damage certainly points to that.
Thanks for sharing your story and photos, Mary.
Paul